


don't dream it's over

by lolainslackss



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: 80s Music, Alternate Universe, Boys Kissing, Carnival, Carnival AU, Cotton Candy, Fairground AU, M/M, Motorcyle-riding Andrew, Summer Vibes, Teenage runaway Neil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 20:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14880914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolainslackss/pseuds/lolainslackss
Summary: It was the end of summer. The carnival would be packing up soon which meant Neil Josten would be back on the road. Before that, though, Neil wanted to learn a bit more about the guy who came to his booth every day - the one who performed in the motorcycle stunt show, never cracked a smile, and bought way, way too much cotton candy.Carnival AU.





	don't dream it's over

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact about me: Adventureland is one of my favourite movies. The carnival here is kinda sorta based on that one, and the title comes from the Crowded House song that’s on its (spectacular) soundtrack. Enjoy!!
> 
> Thank you, always, to @moonix, who brainstorms the most lovely AUs w/ me. <3

It was late. The evening show would have just finished.

Neil grabbed a couple of pastel-coloured sticks and stuck them in the cotton candy machine one after the other, making the globes of floss as big as he possibly could. Above his booth, the sun was already setting. The sky was all florid swathes of extravagant crimson melting into splotches of acidic yellow. It was otherworldly; it was an arcade game sky. A new song started playing over the speaker, the bass reminding him of his heartbeat when he was too anxious to sleep.

Just as he always did when the evening show finished, Andrew Minyard made his way across the trodden grass toward the cotton candy booth. Neil grinned and waved lazily at him.

It had started pretty early on in the season. Andrew swung by multiple times a day and bought so much cotton candy that Neil had eventually started to worry about him a bit. Back then, Neil didn’t even know his name. When Neil had asked, Allison had told him Andrew performed in the motorcycle stunt show that took place at the carnival three times a day. He would ride the Wall of Death in impossibly fast loops, spin the wheels on his bike so fast they spilled smoke across the dirt floor.

“That kind of thing,” Allison had said, snapping her gum.

Whenever Andrew showed up, his skin was always slick with grease, streaked with smudges of dust. His beat-up riding leather was showy, elaborately decorated with patches and studs. He would ask for two sticks of cotton candy - sometimes three - and then leave.

At some point, Neil had started looking forward to the visits. He would try to find something clever to say, enough to provoke a reaction - a grunt of acknowledgement, or a blank stare. If he was lucky, he’d maybe even get a sarcastic comment. It had become something of a game, though he would never tell anyone about it.

Matt would watch them from across the way, an amused look on his face. Once, he’d said to Neil that it looked like Neil had a crush on Andrew. Neil wasn’t so sure about that. He _noticed_ Andrew, yeah, but ‘crush’ was a big word. A significant word.

What he was certain of, he realised, was that he’d miss Andrew once the carnival packed up.

Summer was nearly ending. The carnival would be closing soon, finished for the season. After that, Neil would have to move on.

He would miss the money coming in regularly, and most of the other carnies, and his daily banter with Andrew. That said, Neil also partly thankful the summer was coming to an end, because his entire summer had been cotton candy, and he was sick of it.

He was sick of spinning sticks in the machine, bundling cobweb-thin strands of pink candy into plump, sweet clouds to sell. He was sick of the constant stickiness that coated his hands, the way rogue beads of sugar would gloop and melt in his hair. He was sick of the warm, confectionary smell that, jumbled with the thick, buttery scent of popcorn, was persistently sickly.

Most of all, he was sick of the taste of it. Sitting in the booth for hours on end, he found himself tearing off clumps to snack on. He’d scrunch up his face in disgust as it dissolved on his tongue, forget how unbearably sweet it was, do it again.

He didn’t understand what Andrew saw in it.

“How was the show?” Neil asked, presenting the two huge, pink orbs of candy to Andrew.

Andrew took one and immediately licked a curl of sugary cotton into his mouth.

“Same as always,” He answered, after savouring the pink wisp that was melting on his tongue. “We started with the Globe of Death. They ate it up. Big yawn.”

“Globe of Death, Wall of Death,” Neil said, smirking. “Not very creative with the names, were they?”

Andrew hummed non-committedly in response. That reaction wasn't worth a lot of points in the game Neil had started playing with himself. He'd have to try again. He watched as Andrew tore away a curlicue of candy before sucking it off his pinky. The pastel-pink food colouring that Neil added to the sugar always clung to Andrew’s fingertips and stained the corners of his mouth, and Neil wondered if he noticed the staring.

“You done for the night?” Neil asked, ignoring the family who had just joined the line.

“Uh-huh,” Andrew replied, tossing the now bare stick into the trash can.

“You want this one?” Neil asked, holding out the second ball of spun candy.

“Keep it,” Andrew told him, flicking a dime into the tip jar and turning to leave.

Neil furrowed his brow. What was he supposed to do with it? He was surrounded by the stuff 24/7 and he hated it. He turned to the family and supplied them with four fresh bouquets of cotton candy.

“That a dud one?” Matt asked, perching on the side of Neil’s booth and pointing to the deflating mass of rosy sugar.

“Yeah,” Neil replied. “Want it?”

Matt ran the hook-a-duck game that sat opposite to Neil’s cotton candy booth. The game was rigged so that nobody could win, but Matt would hand out prizes to the kids anyway. He and Neil had grown pretty close over the season. They had gotten into the habit of shooting each other a pointed look whenever a terrible 80s power ballad started pouring out of the speakers.

“Sure,” Matt replied excitedly, twirling his finger in the sugar and shoving it in his mouth.

“I can’t believe you guys like that stuff,” Neil muttered, suppressing a shudder.

“Who?” Matt said. “Me and Andrew?”

“You, Andrew, you know, whoever,” Neil replied.

“Right, of course,” Matt went on, grinning. “I should get back.”

Neil waved him off and flopped down onto his stool. Blobs of sugar littered the countertop, sticking to his freckled forearms like annoying grains of sand.

“Still fed up of that stuff?” Nicky asked, wandering over from his position near the Ferris wheel to hand Neil a freshly-fried corndog. Neil bit into it; corn dogs didn’t taste amazing, but they were _way_ better than cotton candy.

“Appreciate it,” Neil told Nicky, wiping a smear of hot oil from the side of his mouth.

“Any time, cutie,” Nicky replied with a wink. “I’ll take extra care of you since you’ve kept Andrew so well-fed this summer.”

“Andrew?” Neil repeated; saying Andrew’s name out loud was like feeling something blossom inside his mouth.

“Yeah,” Nicky told him, his smile a trail of honey. “He’s my cousin. Didn’t he tell you?”

“No,” Neil answered, not sure what to do with that information. “Wow.”

“Give me a wave if you fancy another,” Nicky said, raising a hand to say goodbye and meandering back to his post.

Neil sat and finished his corndog. The sunset had morphed into an deep-sea night sky. Very few stars poked through the thin wisps of cloud. The carnival was busy at night time. Drunk teenagers careened across the fields like asteroids. Litter waltzed in the breeze; there were discarded ticket stubs, crumpled popcorn buckets, rainbow-coloured candy wrappers. The fizzing, frothy remnants of soda spilled from tossed cans. Neil rested his chin on his hand and wondered if he could get away with a sneaky nap. Though the carnival was popular at night, people were mostly there for the rides, attractions and late-night shows. Nobody really wanted cotton candy, but he was stuck in the booth until his shift ended; he was a lonely lighthouse keeper, only he was surrounded by baubles of cotton candy instead of an eternity of sea.

Or so he thought.

“Knock, knock,” Allison sang, tapping her knuckles against the side of the booth.

“You abandon your post again?” Neil asked her teasingly.

Allison walked around and propped her arm on the counter. Renee followed her lead.

“Nope,” Allison replied, sliding her arm through Renee’s. “I’m done for the night. So’s this little one. You on a late shift?”

Allison was always getting into trouble because she would leave whatever ride she was stationed at to wander around and chat. This wouldn’t be such a big deal, except one time she was gone for nearly fifteen minutes and everyone thought they were stuck on the Ferris wheel for eternity.

“Yes,” Neil replied gloomily. Sometimes the carnies would go on to house parties in the nearby suburbs. Neil could sometimes wrangle a spare bed or a couch to sleep on when this happened.

When he was on a closing shift, it was just back to the bare-bones apartment he was squatting in.

“Don’t worry, Neil,” Renee said, “At least it’s money.”

Renee would come over to see him every now and again. She was always inviting Neil back to her booth to get his tarot cards read. The idea kind of gave him the heebie-jeebies, so he would always decline. She was nice, though, and was always checking in to see if he was drinking enough water or needed a bathroom break.

“See you tomorrow?” Allison asked, grabbing a bag of baby-blue floss and tucking it into her brown, leather satchel.

“Sure, sure,” Neil said, as they sauntered off.

There were only a couple of hours to go. Neil looked over at the hook-a-duck stall, where Matt was dozing, an open book resting on his face. He reached for his own book and tried to read, but his eyes were sleepy and unfocused and the sound of distant screaming that carried over from the rollercoaster was distracting.

Neil sat cross-legged on his stool, feeling like he was in the cabin of a ship, or the only inhabitant of a desert island, and thought about the places he could go once the carnival was packed up, once the summer was over. He could head north, get a job on a ranch or in a lodge.

Imagining a thousand possible futures was the best way to kill time.

“My dude,” Matt’s sudden appearance startled him from his thoughts and he looked up, half-dazed. “You need a ride home?”

“No, thanks,” Neil replied, as he always did. “It’s out of your way.”

“Dan wouldn’t mind,” Matt reminded him.

Neil just shook his head and pulled on his jacket.

“You go ahead,” Neil told him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

About a mile from the carnival site was an abandoned apartment complex. Neil had found it the day he’d been employed by the carnival. The place was a wreck, covered in _no entry_ signs, but Neil didn’t care.

Neil pulled on his dark blue, corduroy jacket and grabbed his messenger bag. He was tired, and couldn’t wait to cocoon himself in his old sleeping bag. The carnival was empty; he dropped off the cash with Wymack and got on his way. The dim glow of the lamps led him out of the carnival and into the parking lot.

It was mostly empty, except-

The spark of the lighter caught Neil’s eye and he turned in time just to see the light from the flame bloom around Andrew’s face.

“You’re still here?” Neil asked.

“Just leaving,” Andrew said, straddling his motorcycle, which was the only vehicle left in the lot.

“Oh,” Neil replied. “Okay.”

He expected Andrew to drive off into the night but instead he offered him a cigarette. They were hand-rolled, thin. Neil could already smell the tobacco, earthy and leathery, and he reached out, took one.

Andrew lifted his hand and crooked a finger to say _come here_. Neil leant down. Andrew’s fingers were grubby and callussed. He was concentrating on lighting Neil’s cigarette, his eyes looking down, so that Neil could see his long, blond eyelashes almost translucent in the yellow glow of the lights. Neil hadn’t smoked in a while. The nicotine buzz was instant, dizzying. It filled him with a sense of calm. It was endless summer evenings, open windows, hidden places.

“What are you doing after this?” Neil asked.

Andrew raised his eyebrows. If this had been their usual game, Neil would have just won. A double eyebrow raise was a triumph. It was a tell-tale sign of surprise, and Neil thought he quite liked surprising Andrew.  

“You mean now?” Andrew asked. “I don’t know? Netflix?”

“Not now,” Neil clarified. “After this. When summer ends.”

“College will start back up,” Andrew said slowly, as if he wasn’t sure it was the answer Neil was looking for.

“Oh, right,” Neil replied. “Yeah.”

“And what about you, runaway?” Andrew asked, his voice suddenly like dripping, melting caramel. “What will you do?”

Neil stilled. He had assumed nobody had noticed. Nobody ever noticed.

“I’ll move on, I guess,” Neil replied eventually. There was no point in pretending.

Andrew studied him for a moment. It made Neil feel twitchy, but he refused to look away. He realised this was the closest they’d ever been. No booth between them, no games. Andrew was a couple of inches shorter than him. Small, but a _presence_ , like he would feel sturdy, solid to touch, like he would be able carry Neil over his shoulder. His hair was a snarl of blond curls, longer than it had been at the beginning of summer. His eyes were hooded, tired-looking, both disinterested and intense, if that were even possible. He exhaled. The smoke from their mouths was weaving together and rising skyward. Neil hardly dared blink.

“Have you ever seen a Globe of Death?” Andrew asked finally, and the question was so out of the blue Neil started laughing.

“No. I haven’t.”

“Come. Tomorrow.”

“I’m working-”

“Kevin will cover you for an hour.”

“I-”

“Just come.”

Neil blinked as the motorcycle engine roared to life. The still-lit cigarette was caught between his fingers, spilling a plume of smoke across the lot. Andrew caught his eye, once more, before pulling on his helmet and tearing off.

Neil’s heart hammered away in his chest. He’d always been an invisible boy, the only boy left alive, drifting from place to place, slipping between the cracks. He was an unknowable boy, impossible to catch, a ripple on water. He never got too close to anyone. He was a never. An almost at best.

But Andrew had looked at him like he was more than never, more than almost. He looked at him like he was someday. Like he was now.

 

…

 

“Could you cover me for an hour?” Neil asked.

Wymack’s office was dusty and cluttered. Kevin sat cross-legged on the coffee table, reading a book about the Roman Empire; he was highlighting whole pages of the thing, fluorescent yellow shooting star trails rocketing down his arms.

“I have too much reading to do,” Kevin told him, adjusting his glasses. “Classes start in a few weeks.”

“What? If you’re going to hang around your dad’s carnival, you may as well be useful,” Neil retorted hotly.

Kevin rolled his eyes and flipped the page.

“You can take your books with you, you know,” Neil went on. “It’s not like handing cotton candy to a bunch of kids is particularly strenuous.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Kevin said. “What are _you_ up to, anyway? Why do you need an hour to yourself all of a sudden? You’ve never taken a day off.”

“Nosy,” Neil muttered. “If you must know, I’m going to see the motorcycle stunt show.”

“Why?” Kevin asked, sounding perturbed by the very idea.

“Because I’ve been hanging around this carnival three months now and I’ve never seen anything outside my own booth.”

“That’s such a stupid reason for me to have to sit around for god knows how long.”

“I said I’d be an hour and I will be.”

Kevin scoffed but then he carefully placed his textbook and pens into his backpack and headed for the door. Neil followed him out and made his way over to the stunt show. It was in a large amphitheatre. The worn ground was dark brown, like desert sand at night-time.

Neil slid into his seat. Dan was walking around the stalls trying to peddle fresh doughnuts. She caught Neil’s eye and shot him a conspiratorial wink before heading over.

“You playing hooky?” She asked, grinning.

“Kind of,” Neil replied. “Andrew told me to come watch.”

“You’re enjoying the full-on carnival experience before we pack up,” Dan said sagely. “Better take one of these as well.”

Before he could protest, Dan passed him a carton of mini doughnuts that were smothered in chocolate drizzle. Neil prodded one with his pinky. They were still warm. He knew he wouldn’t eat them, or not many of them, at least, and wondered if Andrew would take them in lieu of cotton candy after the show.

Dan was watching him with a peculiar smirk on her face.

“What?” Neil asked, licking the chocolate drizzle and crunchy sugar off his finger.

“Nothing,” Dan replied easily. “Just thinking about a bet I made with Matt.”

“You think you’re going to win?”

“I think I’m definitely losing.”

Before Neil could ask about their bet, the low rumble of motorcycle engines revving filled the amphitheatre.

“Enjoy the show,” Dan told him, lightly touching his shoulder as she made her way up the stairs.

Neil found Andrew immediately. Of the half a dozen riders who performed in the show, he was the smallest. He was lounging on his bike, tufts of blond hair poking out of his lime-green helmet, and Neil could imagine the bored look on his face. The other riders continued to rev their engines, driving the crowd wild.

“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” A voice rang out over the speakers. “Welcome to the first motorcycle stunt show of the day. We’ll be kicking off with the exciting Globe of Death. Who will survive, and what will be left of them?”

As he spoke, the riders started looping around the performance area, whirling around making figure-of-eight patterns in the dirt.

“We must stress, ladies and gentlemen, that you do _not_ try this at home. It is extremely dangerous.”

Neil rolled his eyes. The commentator was so corny.

An ominous-looking, circular cage was wheeled out by some of the carnies. Neil watched, mildly concerned. How would six bikes fit in there?

The bikes entered, one by one, until only Andrew was left. Neil couldn’t tell if Andrew had noticed him behind the oil slick of his visor, but Neil couldn’t take his eyes off him. He sucked in a sharp breath as Andrew entered the globe.

Shrieks of delight rang out around Neil but he was still, breathless. The six bikes whizzed round and round, and he felt it rising within him: a sense of impending doom. It reminded him of running fast, of hiding in dark, secret places. Around the bikes went, just missing each other, blurs of black and metal. It was what the inside of his chest felt like at night when he was alone.

Finally, they left the globe, and Neil relaxed. It always came, after that ominous, fate-worse-than-death panic, the relief.

The show went on. The routines were expertly choreographed; bikes soared through the air and landed on the ground, kicking up dust. Finally, Andrew ended the show by zipping around the Wall of Death, and afterwards, unsure if he was supposed to wait around or not, Neil stood by the back entrance, clutching the cold doughnuts and trying to remember what time he’d left the booth in Kevin’s hands.

Andrew eventually came out with his leather jacket slung over his shoulder and his sunglasses perched on top of his head.

“I came,” Neil said, taking a step forward and walking towards him.

“I can see that,” Andrew commented dryly, reaching out to take a doughnut and shoving it in his mouth. “These are cold.”

“We can get more if you want,” Neil said, shrugging. “I thought you liked cotton candy after your shows, anyway.”

“Ice cream cones are the number one post-show snack food,” Andrew told him, licking up the chocolate sauce that had oozed down his hand. “Then hot doughnuts. Cotton candy is an acceptable third.”

“Then why do you come to my booth every day?” Neil asked, nonplussed.

Andrew paused, his second doughnut hovering in the air, mid-way to his mouth. He shot Neil a blank look as if to say, _are you stupid?_

“The scintillating conversation, obviously,” He mumbled, after Neil just looked at him expectantly.

“Well, I’m heading back there now, if you want to tag along and get your third most-favourite carnival snack,” Neil replied, taking off his hoodie and tying it around his middle. He hadn’t realised how hot it was away from the shade of his booth.   

“Play hooky a while longer,” Andrew said.

“Kevin is waiting for me,” Neil stated. “I don’t know how long I’ve been away already.”

“Kevin Shmevin,” Andrew said, waving his hand dismissively. “He can handle the struggles of the booth for a while longer.”

“Okay,” Neil said, laughing a little. “What do you want to do?”

“Experience the countless joys of the carnival, of course,” Andrew replied sarcastically.

After concocting a plan, Andrew decided he needed a coffee first. They headed over to the bar and Andrew ordered two iced lattes. They walked around the carnival noisily sucking the coffee through their straws, looking at the crappy games and precarious-looking rides spin round and round. It all made Neil feel a bit sick. In his booth, he could ignore most of the outside world. When you were in the midst of the chaos, though, the glitzy-sounding 80s pop mixed with the smell of fried food and the dizzying twirl of the carnival rides was a bit too much. It was too loud and too colourful and he wasn’t really sure what people found so appealing about it.

“Ring toss,” Andrew commented, sounding wholly disinterested in such a prospect.

“Sure,” Neil replied, shrugging. Even though the carnival was kind of unpleasant, hanging around with Andrew was, well, _fine_. During his visits to Neil’s booth, Neil was always trying to say something smart or surprising, something that would push Andrew's buttons. Now that they were hanging out, Neil found he didn’t have to try so hard. There was an enjoyable comfort in the silence. Andrew was a steadying presence because he always seemed so in control of the surroundings. In this way, Neil was happy to follow him around. It was a rare feeling.

Andrew tossed Seth some crumpled-up money and received three golden rings in return. He arranged them between his knuckles like weapons and then tossed them in rapid succession towards the line of plastic cones. The three rings easily slid down the cones and Seth snorted before rolling his eyes.

“You showing off for Josten?” He grumbled, folding his arms.

“I believe you owe me a stuffed animal,” Andrew replied, a deathly glint in his eye.

“You can’t be serious,” Seth cawed, incredulous.

“We’re not leaving without one of those sheep,” Neil joined in, pointing to the giant bundle of white fluff at the top of the pile of toys.

“You two are the worst,” Seth grumbled, tossing the sheep at Neil.

Neil began to regret their shenanigans when Andrew told him they were going to ride the bumper cars. He had to shove the sheep in the seat beside him, enticing gleeful giggles from the kids in the other carts and subsequently making him a target for bumping the entire way round the circuit.

Neil lost track of time, and eventually he and Andrew made their way back to the amphitheatre, stopping on the way for ice cream cones.

“That’s the evening show starting,” Andrew told him. He phrased it almost like a question and Neil didn’t really know how to answer it.

“Fuck,” He said instead. “Kevin will be livid.”

The sky was a messy collage of pink squares, red rust. He’d ended up slacking off for nearly his entire shift.

“It’s nearly the end of the carnival,” Andrew pointed out. “What are they going to do? Fire you?”

Neil shrugged and took off into a jog, leaving Andrew behind. It wasn’t until he was nearly back at the booth that he nearly kicked himself for not asking when he’d see him again.

Tomorrow would be their last day, he reminded himself. That meant he’d see Andrew again for maybe the last time. It would be the same for Matt, Nicky, Allison, everyone. The thought unsettled him, and he chalked it up to feeling the squirming itch to run creeping around inside of him the way it did whenever it was time to leave everything behind. That was it. That had to be it.

 

…

 

Kevin was _not_ happy and Neil felt the entirety of the rest of his shift feeling a little bit bad about it before reminding himself he’d worked pretty much all summer without a break and also didn’t really care.

The last couple of hours passed by without incident, and he eventually found himself trudging towards the parking lot, carrying a huge, fluffy sheep under one arm and yawning into his fist with the other. He was sleepy, but the thought of going back to the place he was crashing at was somewhat unappealing. That way, he felt a rush of gratitude when he heard the clicking of Allison’s heels against the concrete behind him.  

“Neil!” Allison called, running after him. “Party at my house tonight. Interested?”

“Sure,” Neil replied, thankful he wouldn’t have to go back to his hollow shell of an apartment for the evening. “Will Andrew be there?”

Allison, who was in the middle of tying her hair up into a high ponytail, froze for a second, before smirking and nodding.

“He’ll be there,” She said, still looking amused.

“What’s funny?” Neil asked, following her to the edge of the lot.

“Nothing, really,” Allison remarked. “I just should have gotten into that betting pool of Matt’s when I had the chance.”

 

…

 

When they arrived at Allison’s house, Neil immediately lost Allison and Renee to a heated-looking game of beer pong so began wandering the party, keeping an eye out for Andrew.

He hovered by the cooler a second and then grabbed a beer. He took a sip, letting the cold, fizzy liquid bubble up in his mouth before swallowing. He wasn’t entirely sure if he liked the taste or not, and began fiddling with the label as he looked around for someone he might know.

Kevin strode up beside him and nudged him with his elbow.

“What’re you doing after the carnival?” He asked, his words slightly blurring together at the seams.

“I don’t know,” Neil muttered, narrowing his eyes at Kevin and the way his glasses were so crooked they were nearly falling off his face. “Are you drunk or something?”

“Little bit,” Kevin admitted, offering Neil a grin and clinking his beer bottle against Neil’s own.

“I thought you had your panties in a bunch about how classes were starting soon,” Neil pointed out. “No studying tomorrow, I take it?”

“I’ll study later,” Kevin replied, frowning. “Are you coming back to the carnival next summer?”

“Um, I never thought about it,” Neil answered, not having the heart to tell him _no, he couldn’t_. He never repeated a season anywhere because going back wasn’t the same as running.

“Think about it,” Kevin told him, jabbing his glasses with his middle finger and shoving them up the bridge of his nose. “We could hang out.”

“Um. Okay,” Neil said, and then Kevin was away, slinging a ping pong ball in the general direction of the beer pong table and landing the shot, resulting in a delighted, impressed cheer from the other players.

Neil flicked the soggy, paper remnants of his bottle label on the table and walked towards the garden. Nobody was out there, though Neil noticed Allison’s family had a pretty large swimming pool that would probably become the site of much debauchery later in the evening. Just as he was making that observation, he noticed a drifting cloud of smoke glide across the water. He slid open the patio doors and tiptoed onto the deck.

Neil found Andrew sitting on the ground by the pool. A cigarette dangling out of his mouth, he was staring at nothing, seemingly unaware Neil had snuck up on him. The shine of the moon made the pool look like a mosaic of chlorine blue and white light. Andrew was covered in shadows and diamonds. He was wearing a black tank top speckled with tiny holes and there was a denim shirt tied loosely around his waist. Neil noted the graceful curve of his bicep, the way his his bare skin was covered in scrapes, bruises, wavy trails of light.

“Want to get out of here?” Andrew muttered around his cigarette, his eyes still glued to a spot in the dark.

“Sure,” Neil said. The condensation from the beer bottle had been smearing across his hands, numbing his fingertips. He put it down on the pool tiles with a ‘clack’, the liquid sloshing over the rim, and stuffed his hands in his hoodie pocket.

They walked out of Allison’s house without saying goodbye and made their way across the street to where Andrew’s bike was parked. Neil climbed on behind Andrew and tentatively slipped his hands around Andrew’s waist. Andrew leaned forward and started the engine.

The night was quiet and the streets were empty. They drove for what seemed like miles, Neil’s arms clad tight around Andrew and his heartbeat flickering in his chest, until they finally pulled in by an old, worn trail that led uphill. Neil swivelled around and hopped off the bike. The path in front of them was framed by trees and silhouettes, and all around them was a fairy-tale quiet. Neil followed Andrew up towards the train tracks, feeling as if they’d come to a place separate from the rest of the world. They trudged through the overgrown grass, trampling weeds underfoot, until they found a spot where they could sit down by the edge of the train tracks. The moonlight slid along the old tracks in long lines, making them seem knife-like in the dark.

“Tell me what’s true and what’s a lie,” Andrew ordered.

“What do you mean?” Neil responded.

“Those eyes, for instance. They real?” Andrew went on, pointing a lazy, circling finger at Neil’s face.

“Yes,” Neil replied, blinking rapidly.

“You’re telling me that’s a real shade of blue?” Andrew scoffed, sounding unconvinced.

“Yeah?” Neil replied slowly.

“What about the hair?” Andrew carried on without missing a beat.

“It’s… redder than natural.” Neil admitted.

“So you are hiding from someone.”

“I’m not hiding. I just like it this colour.”

“You wear it long. Let it obscure your right eye. Why?”

Neil hesitated for a moment and then pushed aside the long, drooping curls that hung over his eye with his pinkie, revealing the shiny, white scar tissue that trod a crooked path down past his eyebrow to end at his cheekbone.

“You running from whoever did that to you?” Andrew asked, and his voice was flint generating sparks of fire.

“I was in a gang,” Neil explained, letting the crimson curls flop back into place. “When I first ran away. A long time ago.”

“Why run at all?” Andrew asked.

“The usual,” Neil said vaguely, letting loose a gallows laugh. “Shitty parents.”

“Parents are shitty here too,” Andrew told him, running his hand across the ground and tearing out a clump of grass and dirt.

“There was nothing worth sticking around for,” Neil elaborated. “No future.”

“And now?” Andrew asked, his eyes glinting like a hunting bird’s in the dark. “You just keep running away? You’ll be running forever.”

“Guess so,” Neil agreed. “I can’t explain it. It’s kind of- it’s _habit_. Comfortable even. In its own way. Maybe it’s fate. Maybe I’m doomed.”

“Sounds ominous,” Andrew muttered. “You should let Renee read your cards.”

“No thanks,” Neil replied, suppressing a shudder. “Is that how you knew I was a runaway? Fortune telling?”

“You don’t need to be psychic to work that one out,” Andrew replied, deadpan. “It’s all over you.”

“Weird,” Neil remarked. “Nobody ever seems to notice. Nobody ever really notices me at all, really.”

He’d gotten pretty good at blending in, slipping through the cracks when he needed to. To be seen, _really_ seen, from the exaggerated colour of his hair to his crescent moon scar, was a disorientating thing.

“You’re impossible _not_ to notice,” Andrew said, to Neil’s surprise. “It’s like, you know when you’re walking past a train wreck or a car crash and you just have to look? It’s like that.”

“So you’re saying I’m… irresistible?” Neil replied playfully.

“I’m saying you’re a disaster,” Andrew replied, deliberately slow.

In the distance, Neil could hear a mechanical chugging.

“Train’s coming to interrupt,” Neil mumbled.

“Thank fuck,” Andrew replied, getting to his feet. “Let’s go.”

They made their way back through the brush and the trees to the motorcycle. All around them, insects were illuminated in the dark.

“Where’s home, runaway?” Andrew asked, his voice low and sleepy as he pulled on his riding gloves.

“Um, you can just drop me back at the party,” Neil replied. He felt tired all the way down to his bones, but he didn’t want Andrew to see the crumbling wreck of an apartment building he was staying in.

“You can crash at mine,” Andrew said, as if reading his mind. “If you want.”

Above them, the sky was an inky smear of dark indigo, stars scrawling across it like graffiti.

“Sure,” Neil replied with a nod. “I want to.”

 

...

 

Andrew’s apartment was small, but cosy.

“Is this all yours?” Neil asked, walking over to the bookshelf and sliding his palm across the cracked spines.

“Why?” Andrew asked. “You need a place to stay?”

The question almost knocked him off-balance. Nothing in his life had ever been so simple. He was used to squatting in empty houses, broken buildings. He’d spent his life travelling from town to town, picking up cash when he needed it. Nobody ever learned anything of worth about him, and he’d leave with a new name, a new story. Not once had he thought about living with someone. He never stayed in one place long enough for a root to begin worming its way through the dirt, let alone settle, nourish, _grow_. The very concept of staying seemed impossibly hard, but Andrew was offering it to him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“No,” Neil said eventually. “I’ll be moving on after tomorrow.”

“Suit yourself,” Andrew replied, his tone flippant.

The air conditioning was busted, so the apartment was slick with heat, even with all the windows open. They watched TV, sitting entirely too close for the sticky warmth that surrounded them. They were both struggling to keep their eyes open but Neil felt like he couldn’t fall asleep. The carnival would be ending soon, which meant this _thing_ between them would be over too. The evening suddenly took on a special quality, like time moved differently for one night only, like things that might have been impossible before were suddenly within reach, glimmering with potential.

“I’m going to bed,” Andrew stated blankly.

“Oh. Okay,” Neil said, disappointed.

“Are you coming?” Andrew asked.

 

…

 

Neil couldn’t remember having slept in a bed as cosy as Andrew’s. Andrew had taken the duvet out from the cover so that it would be cooler, and above them, the window was open a few inches, and the breeze was a welcome balm. They both got into bed fully clothed and lay on their sides. For a minute or two, they stared at each other, and Andrew’s eyes were a burning, honeyed topaz in the dark.

“Are we kissing or not?” Andrew asked eventually, and Neil felt something like joy swoop low and quick in his stomach.

“We’re kissing,” He confirmed, tucking his clasped hands between his knees and leaning forward just as Andrew did the same.

Kissing wasn’t as messy or frantic as Neil had expected it to be. Andrew kissed him slowly and with measure, as if he were luxuriating in it. Time seemed to seep away in slow motion. Their mouths fit together snugly, tongues swirling extravagantly around each other, noses brushing each other gently every now and then.

It wasn’t hunger and wilderness. It was sumptuous, gentle, unhurried. Andrew kissed him like they had all the time in the world, pulling away every once in a while to plant a bouquet of kisses at his temple, in the hollow of his collarbone, on the back of his hand.

They kissed until Neil felt like he’d fallen asleep, slid inside a dream.

“I was wrong before,” Andrew said, furrowing his brow. “You’re not like a car crash or any other disaster.”

Neil raised his eyebrows, wanting Andrew to continue.

“You’re like cotton candy,” Andrew went on. “Tastes sweet, but gone before you know it.”

Neil laughed at that, but Andrew didn’t join in. He was pulling away.

“Andrew-” Neil began, but the room had gone dark.

He was lost. He was travelling north, ready to work in a lodge for the Winter. He was heading West, to Vegas. He’d work in a casino, live in the desert, sleep in the dust.

He was a nothing boy, a boy made of smoke and spun sugar. Gone without a trace.

Images lolloped past him, in this nowhere place. Across from him, Matt was handing a little boy a fluffy, pink unicorn. Allison was laughing somewhere. He could see Kevin, half-drunk, his glasses falling off his nose. Finally, he was next to Andrew in the dark.

“If you run away now, you’ll be running forever,” Andrew was saying.

The words echoed around his head so loudly he felt he had to escape them. He pressed his hands against his ears and ran. He kept running, only it felt like he was running through a river of molasses, stumbling at every corner.

When he woke up from the dream, he jolted upright. Neil felt dizzy, panicked, like his entire body was a house fire. He looked around wildly, expecting to find himself in the run-down apartment building, morning sunshine falling through the gaps in the wooden slats that boarded up the window, and an old, beat-up mattress beneath him. Instead, he woke up tangled in soft sheets that smelled like tobacco, sunscreen, _boy_.

Oh. Right. Yes. He was in a boy’s bed. Neil tried to calm down. He pulled his hair out of his face, into a ponytail and quietly lay down again, turning gently so he could face Andrew.

Andrew was still sleeping, one arm sticking out from under the sheets but otherwise curled up on his side. He was still wearing the faded, black tank top, and Neil supposed the tiny holes were the result of rogue, hot ash that had tumbled from countless lit cigarettes. Neil wanted to reach out and touch the fabric just to find out if it were as soft as the bedsheets. He wanted Andrew to wake up and to kiss him again. He wondered if kissing felt different in the daytime.

“Are you always this loud in the morning?” Andrew grumbled, not opening his eyes.

“I’m not doing anything,” Neil protested, his voice no more than a whisper.

Andrew’s eyes fluttered open and he shuffled closer. He laid a lazy path of kisses down Neil’s cheek, across his jaw, and down to his neck, and Neil suddenly saw appeal in never leaving the bed ever again. Just as he began to melt under the feather-light touch of Andrew’s kisses, he remembered his dream. It had created a dark, sticky residue. The words Andrew had spoken about running forever ricocheted around his mind and he suddenly felt lost, hidden away in a dark, nowhere space where no light could get in.

“We should get to work,” Neil said, trying to sound cheerful. “It’s the last day.”

Andrew withdrew and made a bored, humming noise. They unstuck themselves from the twisted sheets and got dressed.

 

...

 

Neil sat in his booth, his chin resting on his open palms, as he stared out at the sky. It was the perfect summer sky, like something out of a movie. The sun punctured the swimming pool-blue of it, a perfectly round peach pit. He released a long, shuddery sigh, and wondered what the sky would be like in the autumn, wondered what shade of grey it would be as rain fell on the empty carnival grounds.

Andrew came after the first show and asked for two sticks of cotton candy. To an onlooker, it might appear that Neil hadn’t spent the night in Andrew’s bed or woken up to experience the most delicate kisses imaginable, but Andrew’s fingertips lingered near his own as he passed over a couple of crinkled dollars and Neil felt an instant flush of warmth bloom in his chest.

“Are you coming to the fireworks show later?” Andrew asked, his voice flat.

The last day of the carnival ended with a fireworks show and private party for the carnies. Neil had heard from Nicky that it was totally _legendary_ and not to be missed. He’d planned on taking off right after his shift ended but decided he could probably stick around for a few fireworks and say his goodbyes.

“Yeah,” Neil answered.

Andrew nodded and walked away, peeling strips of pink sugar away from the boulder of candy and eating them as he went.

Later, the carnies all walked up the hill at the back of the lot. Neil walked with Allison and Renee for a little while, before hanging back and walking with Andrew. They made their way to the top of the hill and sat in a crooked line. Beneath them, the carnival was being packed away, massive trucks leaving by way of the parking lot, crossing over to the road near Neil’s abandoned apartment building which could be seen in the distance. Someone began to pass around a hip flask and when it got to Neil, he took a swig. The whiskey burned on its way down to his gut and he felt alive, more than alive; he felt invincible.

As he reached out to take Andrew’s hand, the first firework went off.

He’d never much gotten the _point_ of fireworks; they were just bursts of neon colour, loud and bright and depending on his mood, troubling. But here, now, with a cluster of friends by his side, and a couple of shots of whiskey in his veins, they seemed beautiful. Sunshine yellow and orange scattered across the sky, melting into pink and blue, cotton candy colours. To the left of him, Nicky whooped. Neil turned to look and saw that Allison and Renee were kissing, cosmic green light enveloping them in an emerald glow. Kevin and Seth were bickering about something or other, while Dan and Matt were hunched over Dan’s iPhone, trying to select a song to play.

 _I want this_ , Neil thought. _I want to stay_.

He turned to Andrew to say something, but Andrew was already talking.

“You can stay here,” Andrew was saying, touching Neil’s shoulder with his own, and there it was: a kernel of bright fire, alight like a jewel.

“Yes,” Neil said, the word rushing out of him like a gust of wind. “I can stay. For a while.”

Overhead, the fireworks continued to pop and scatter.

**Author's Note:**

> what happened to the giant, fluffy sheep? where was aaron? who knows? ;)
> 
> please let me know about any typos
> 
> am currently taking soft au prompts over at my [tumblr](http://palmetttos.tumblr.com/) if u have a grand idea


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